


Chess

by pleasebekidding



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alaric mostly being a grownup about them, Anal Sex, Chess, Elijah having issues, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, S3 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasebekidding/pseuds/pleasebekidding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to preserve Elena's life, and prevent Klaus from building an army, Elijah struck up a pact with Alaric; he would take Elena away and keep her safe. Over time feelings began to grow; but Elijah knew getting attached to a human was a bad idea.<br/>So they played chess, and drank cognac, until it wasn't enough anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chess

A small town, a very small town, in Oregon, where the sun struggled pathetically through a thick layer of cloud more days than not. A small house. It looked poorly defended, but that was an illusion. The security was many layered and very, very solid. And the inhabitants knew the instant someone stepped, stumbled or drove onto the very long driveway that set the house back from the street.

The very edge of town.

“I’m going to school,” Elena said, and Alaric gave her a grin. The red hair, cropped to just above her shoulders, and the green eyes, were still as startling as they had been six months ago; but Alaric had trained himself not to react. “I’m studying at the library afterwards, so I won’t be back until dinner.”

“I’ll see you then,” he said, and turned back to the computer. “Got your stake? Phone? Panic button?”

“No, _dad_ ,” she said pointedly, voice a little husky – was she getting sick? “I’ve decided I don’t care about my safety any more. I’ll see you tonight.”

So maybe the routine was getting old. Alaric didn’t care. She had to be twice as careful as she thought she should be. Three times as careful. Daily he fought the urge to sit in his car outside the school with a crossbow and kill anyone who looked sideways at her but since half the boys in the tiny high school had a crush, he thought it was best he didn’t.

“See you then,” Alaric said, to the scent of apples, dissipating in the small space. The alarm gave a disgruntled beep, and Alaric returned to editing the journal article he’d been working on the last day or so. Turned out academic ghost-writing, while boring as batshit, paid enough to keep the two of them afloat. Wouldn’t have been possible with rent, or what have you. But since a certain schmick Original vampire had paid handsomely to purchase this house, and the land, and the houses either side (and their witchy residents), with no paper trail that would ever lead back to himself, or Elena, or Alaric, that wasn’t an issue.  Alaric didn’t even have to work; that had been made clear. But e wasn’t going to sit around on his hands, and he needed to feel like a provider, rather than a babysitter, so…

Back to the sociology of emotion. Alaric rubbed his eyes, and gave up, and poured himself a cup of coffee, gazing out the window. It would snow in the next day or so. He re-evaluated his day, heading out to the shed in the back yard to chop wood. The heating system wasn’t great in the house, but the fireplace made up for it, and there was something soothing about flames. With no television to make them stupid Elena and Alaric often sat on their respective armchairs and couches in front of the fireplace on colder nights and read, cherry-picking the occasional passage to read out loud to each other. If it wasn’t for the daily fear that Klaus might actually find them one day, and worse, push through their defenses, it would have been sort of idyllic. If it wasn’t for the painful absence of Jeremy, still cheerfully holed up in Colorado. If not for all of that.

Alaric chopped wood for three hours, until his shirt was soaked through with sweat, and he had forgotten it was cold. It took some time to stack the wood close to the house, and bring enough inside to get through a day or two if the snow got heavy. A long shower, another cup of coffee, and Alaric returned to his task.

\--

It was around four o’clock when he decided now would be better than later, to turn the fire from ‘embers’ to ‘flames’; so that by the time he was preparing dinner for himself and Elena the house was toasty warm. One beep made him look up at the tiny security screen discreetly tucked away in the kitchen; she was on the driveway. A minute later a series of beeps from the front door said she was coming inside, and bringing a gust of cold air with her.

“It’s going to snow,” she said seriously. “Might be snowed out of school by Friday, they say.”

“Oh, woe is you.” He stirred the pasta sauce in the pot, tasting it from the edge of the wooden spoon.

Dinner was quietish. Elena had a pile of shiny catalogues from colleges all over the country. Alaric didn’t have the heart to tell her it might not be possible, at least not for the following year. Instead he thought about how on earth he was going to keep her safe for long enough to look at schools, let alone attend one, in a big city.

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t. I won’t live in exile all my life. Elena Gilbert might be gone, but Eleanor Sommers is going to college. And Ric…” she patted his hand. “I’m not your responsibility. In the end, I’ll go whether you say it’s okay or not.”

Alaric said nothing. He simply ate his pasta, and carefully didn’t snap, carefully didn’t point out that it wasn’t just Elena’s life at stake. Conversations like that had to be saved for a special occasion. Sometimes when they weren’t facing down three days of each other’s uninterrupted company.

“I’ll do groceries tomorrow,” he said instead. “In case we’re snowed in.”

It was a couple of hours later that the security camera beeped again. Elena closed her book and reached for a crossbow, tossing it into Alaric’s waiting hand as he stepped into the kitchen to check the screen. He frowned, but relaxed.

“It’s Elijah,” he said. “Were you expecting him?”

Elena tossed her head, as if expecting a mane to flip over her shoulders; the short hair was taking a lot of getting used to, it seemed. “He doesn’t always tell us. Anyway, you could use some company. You’re turning into a crazy person.” She pulled the door open just as Elijah was about to knock, and he stepped inside, nodding.

For a moment, he didn’t speak, looking around the room as if to check that the décor hadn’t changed. It had not.

“Elena. Alaric.”

As Elena pushed the door shut she stepped forward to wrap her arms around Elijah, who looked startled, as he always did when Elena was so recklessly affectionate; but he returned the embrace gladly, if briefly. “I apologize for coming by unannounced. I should have called.”

Alaric gave a half grin, and shook his head. “Better you avoid calling anyway. It’s not like we’re ever not here. Drink?”

Elena cleared her throat. “I have work to do. Say goodbye before you leave?” She patted Elijah’s arm, and slipped down the short corridor to her bedroom, pulling the door shut behind her.

In the pantry on a high shelf full of mainly mid-range bourbon were several bottles of cognac; Rèmy Martin, nowhere near the top end where a bottle could reach four figures, but these were certainly not cheap. Elijah brought a few bottles, from time to time, and it felt strangely like he was staking a claim, confirming he would be back.

Alaric was beginning to develop a taste for the stuff. He’d switch back to bourbon after one or two, and stay there for however long the night ran – could be a while, if Elijah was in the mood, or he could be gone in half an hour. Either way. Alaric poured a drink for them each, and set them on a small coffee table by the fireplace.

Elijah had removed his jacket, and hung it on the coat rack. So it was going to be one of those nights. Alaric was glad. He didn’t have enough adult company. To Alaric’s even greater surprise Elijah unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, and rolled them up a little way, before pulling the chessboard down from the shelf. He didn’t say a word; he just shifted his chair, and the coffee table, so they could sit across from each other, and silently set up the board.

Alaric shifted his armchair, and relaxed into it, and watched. A black and red chess set; he didn’t even know where Elijah had found it, or what had possessed him to bring it, on that first visit. It had been years since Alaric had played chess with his father, but it had come back quickly enough, and he was getting better all the time.

Which was not to say he had a shot at beating Elijah, in, say, ever. At this point he thought he might beat just about anyone else on God’s green earth, but certainly, certainly not Elijah.

They played silently, thoughtfully. Never more than two or three minutes a turn, and Elijah was a little faster, always. “Have you seen Damon?”

“I was in Mystic Falls last week,” Elijah said carefully.

“So that’s a…”

“I spoke to him, he shouted at me. It was quite a moment.”

Damon was an idiot. The fact his heart wasn’t torn out and thrown to the dogs still surprised Alaric. “Shouted.”

“Well, not for long. I snapped his neck. One needs a little peace, at times, and he’s the only one who remains convinced I know of your whereabouts. Even Klaus still believes I am looking for you both. Check.”

“I’ll beat you one day,” Alaric said, as Elijah took his queen.

“I sincerely doubt that. But I admire your optimism. Tell me, Alaric. How do you propose to keep her safe at college?”

The glossy prospectuses… prospecti? sat like lies, up on the dining table top. Of course Elijah had noticed.

“I have no idea.”

“You remember our bargain.”

Alaric felt irritation snap through his body like a whip. “Yes.”

“I don’t wish her to be a prisoner…”

“I said I remember. Now will you keep your voice down? The walls here are thin.” A lie, but Alaric didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Bad enough he’d sent Jeremy away, compelled. Jeremy at least had a shot at a normal life. But if Alaric couldn’t keep Elena safe from prying eyes Elijah planned to compel her to never so much as want to leave her room, in his home at Copper Harbor, until Klaus was somehow immobilized. And that thought was too much to bear. “We’ll work something out. If I can’t talk her out of waiting… and anyway, how’s your end of the bargain?”

“I have two dozen witches working on the problem of my brother. If there is a way to still him for the rest of Elena’s natural life, they will find it.”

Elijah reset the chess board, and Alaric poured more cognac. Their fingers brushed together as they reached for their glasses at the same time, and their eyes met. They didn’t look away, not quickly. There was a familiar, aching charge in the air, and Alaric withdrew his hand.

Still they matched gaze for gaze.

“Perhaps I should go.”

Alaric’s head barely twitched. “If you like.” He wasn’t sure whether he wanted that or not. He was never sure of anything, when it came to Elijah.

Elijah clasped his hands over his knees, cocking his head, and gave an almost imperceptible shrug, before he moved his first pawn.

\--

Alaric sat on the edge of the bed with the secret cell phone in his hands, debating with himself, for a good half an hour, before he dialed Elijah’s secret number. Elijah picked up on the second ring, sounding gravely concerned.

“What’s happened?”

“Nothing.” Alaric rubbed his eyes. “She wants to go to a couple of schools, check them out.”

Elijah was silent a while. “I see.”

“She could still enroll, if Klaus is gone in time. If she loses a year because we were too cautious…”

“A year isn’t long.”

“Maybe not when you’re a thousand years old, or even thirty-five. It is when you’re eighteen.” Alaric lay back on the bed, hand behind his head on the pillow. “It’s just a weekend. Chicago. Guess she’s getting used to the cold. We’ll be careful.”

Elijah was quiet, altogether too long.

“You won’t go unaccompanied. Send the details. Which weekend. I’ll arrange your flights, hotel rooms, and escorts. They’ll be discreet, but make sure Elena knows they’re there. I won’t have her slipping off to some ridiculous fraternity party.” He grumbled. “Vampires love those.”

He should have guessed it would go something like that. “Alright. I’ll call back in a day or two.” He didn’t hang up, and neither did Elijah. “It’s been a few weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“I know. I just wanted you to know… I miss chess.”

More silence. Elijah spoke in silences as often as he spoke out loud. “Indeed,” he said at last, and even that sounded profound.

Alaric chuckled. “I’ll talk to you in a day or two,” he said, and hung up.

\--

“I feel like a celebrity,” Elena said. “Not the fun side, just with the creepy stalker security guys and the keeping an eye out for freaks everywhere I go.” They’d been picked up by a very tall, very attractive, witch in cornrows and with eyes such a startlingly pale brown they looked like honey. She introduced herself as Trudy and scrutinized Elena so thoroughly that Alaric began to worry they were being tricked.

She didn’t speak another word, all the way to the hotel. Alaric carried the bags into the foyer (“one weekend, Elena, how many pairs of shoes did you bring?”), while she presented the booking confirmation to the receptionist.

The rooms (Alaric had thought it would be a suite, somehow, but instead his room was across the corridor from Elena’s) were huge, extravagant. Too much, really, but Elijah no doubt had reasons to have chosen them. “It’s quiet,” Elena said. “It’s really quiet.”

“He probably booked the whole floor. I never know if he goes too far, or just far enough.”

Elena gave a tight smile. “You think we’re allowed to go out to dinner?”

“I’ll see you in twenty minutes,” Alaric said. “We’ll just go. Bring a stake.”

She rolled her eyes, and disappeared into her room, letting it shut with a click, and Alaric sighed, and followed suit. A quick shower. In a room this decadent he thought he should shave, as well, but he didn’t. He dressed a little better than usual; nice jacket over a newer pair of jeans. He and Elena walked down to the foyer, and perhaps they should have been surprised to see the inimitable angle of Elijah’s shoulders waiting for them, but they weren’t. Elijah seemed to sense them stepping out of the elevator, and he turned slowly with a nod, waiting for them to meet him by the door.

“I trust the rooms are acceptable.”

Elena giggled. “You know you could fit our house in them, right? It’s very nice. I think it might be a little over the top…”

“Perhaps. But I have two witches and two vampires on the upper floor with you. If you insist on having this weekend, you are having it well-protected. It’s far more than just your own safety I am concerned about,” he added, and he wasn’t smiling. He settled his hands into his pockets. “Now. Dinner?”

Dinner was nice. A little charged, but the air was always charged. Good meat, good wine (and they let Elena drink a little too, and ignore her quiet mumble that if she was Australian they couldn’t stop her). Elijah asked her questions about preferred majors, and suggested schools so tiny no one had ever heard of them, scattered across the continent.

She politely acknowledged these suggestions and moved on.

It was an early finish, but that felt appropriate. Elena looked tired, and she had a big day coming. They bid Elijah farewell at the door of the hotel, and head for the elevators.

“You ever get the feeling someone likes you?” Elena mused, eyeing Alaric sideways.

“Hmm? Sensing some interest from the big bad original?”

“Yes, but not in me.” Elena elbowed Alaric in the ribs. “The chess, the… I don’t know. It feels like the world’s oldest and weirdest courtship ritual. You don’t feel that?”

They stepped out of the elevators. “I don’t think it’s quite that,” he said. “I think he’s intrigued, by us both.” He sighed. “I don’t understand him. I’m not sure anyone does.”

Alaric swiped the keycard in the door.

“I’ll see you in the morning. We have to be on the campus by nine… what?” Elena looked pained.

“Please. I need to do this by myself, Ric. As ‘by myself’ as I can be, considering the campus will probably be covered in witches. Please. There’s a parent thing at five. Can’t you just give us both a break from the nannying?” She crossed her arms, and frowned. “Please. Chicago is a great city. You can… do… I don’t know. Something.” She shrugged.

Alaric sighed.

“Fine. I’ll get you there, and that’s not negotiable. And then I’ll leave you alone.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he rubbed her shoulder, kissed her hair.

“I love you,” she said. “Don’t ever think I don’t know what you’ve sacrificed for me.”

Mini bars were terrible things. Alaric wished he’d brought himself a bottle of something. He cracked the tops on two bottles of Jim Beam (the worst bourbon ever made) and poured them into a small tumbler. He took a sip; so rank he was forced to add a little cola. But whatever. He sat in an oversized armchair, and cracked open the shitty mystery novel he’d bought at the airport. Finishing it seemed superfluous, since the brother in law was clearly the killer, but it was entertaining enough.

There was a knock at the door.

Alaric crossed the room and opened it, ready with an argument about why he wasn’t letting Elena battle the streets of Chicago alone in the morning, but it was Elijah. With a bottle of cognac and a chess board.

Alaric smiled, and stepped back. “Do you need an invitation?”

Elijah shrugged. “It’s polite.”

“Come in, Elijah.”

Elijah looked around the room, passing Alaric the bottle, the box (a cheap set he might have purchased in a supermarket), and slipping his jacket over his shoulders. He removed his tie, as well, and it looked oddly debauched.

“We can do better,” he said, dropping the chess board on the kitchenette bench, and heading into the bedroom. It had been spur of the moment, packing the chess set and board, its red and black pieces in its velvet pouch. Just in case. Elijah looked pleased, in that his eyebrows crept up a quarter inch and he canted his head to one side as he collected wine glasses from the kitchen.

“Not as nice as your tulip glasses,” he said, as he inspected the polish and set them down.

“Better than the brandy sifters I was inflicting you with six months ago.”

“Indeed.” Elijah gave half a smile, as he poured the liquor.

“You know, you could have just told me they ruin the cognac. It’s never really been my drink.”

Elijah shrugged, and Alaric wondered if he’d been right, all those months before; that Elijah preferred to wait and see how people might surprise him, left to their own devices. He’d looked pleased, the first time Alaric poured cognac into the tulip-shaped glasses, instead of the balloons.

A few moments to rearrange furniture so the board was between them. Silent moments. Alaric chose red, for no other reason than that it had become habit. And they played.

“You’re tired,” Elijah said, when he beat Alaric altogether too quickly. Alaric swore, and sipped his drink, and they set the game a second time. “Stress?”

“You try babysitting a mystical teenager who has no sense of self-preservation for a few months. I’m surprised I’m not grey.” But he found his focus, and the second game might not have been a near thing exactly but it was something close to that. “I’m not sure I’m getting any better at this. I’m not sure why you bother.”

Elijah was silent a moment, and when Alaric looked up, their eyes met. “Chess? Or babysitting?”

Alaric shrugged. “I meant chess.”

Elijah opened his mouth as if to speak and then seemed to think better of it. “You’ve improved,” he said with certainty. “In regards to ‘babysitting’, I’m not sure there is another so well qualified. But as a chess partner – I wouldn’t bother, if I wasn’t enjoying it.”

Alaric tried not to consider either compliment too long, but he played better, the third time, and as the bottle got close to empty, he hesitated to set up for a fourth game. Elijah sat quietly. Giving Alaric the option. Glass held by the stem so as not to warm his drink too quickly.

“I should sleep,” Alaric said, crossing his hands between his knees.

“You should.” Elijah finished his drink, stood, and crossed the room gracefully, collecting his jacket. With a hand on the doorknob, he turned again. “I bother because I find you interesting. That doesn’t happen very often.” It sounded to Alaric like a profound compliment and he began to wonder if Elena might have been right. He gave a nod, and as Elijah slipped out the door, he shut it with a click.

\--

“I didn’t know we were supposed to dress up,” Alaric said, but he cheerfully took a glass of red wine from a passing waiter.

“The word ‘reception’ says something, doesn’t it? Anyway, you’re smart-casual.”

“I suppose.”

“Is that Elijah?”

Elijah sort of appeared, the way he generally did, dressed down somewhat. He didn’t approach them immediately. Instead he seemed to spend several minutes checking security. The witch with the honey-colored eyes was standing at the back, and as Alaric watched, they shared a few words. He was dragged back to reality by a middle-aged man sporting a large bald patch and a crumpled suit with leather patches on the elbows. “You look young, to have a daughter ready for college,” he said, and Elena giggled. Alaric shot her an exasperated look.

“Not my daughter, my, uh, stepdaughter. Alaric Saltzman,” he added, shaking the man’s hand.

“Aloysius LeMonde,” the man supplied, and turned to shake… Elijah’s hand. He looked quickly from Elijah back to Alaric. “I see, I see. Well, sir, you have a beautiful daughter, and I enjoyed talking with her today.”

Elena had to bite her thumb. Elijah was too startled to speak.

“I hope she decides to attend. I must take my leave. Excuse me.”

Alaric wasn’t sure he had blushed since he was a teenager, but he blushed, while Elena chuckled, and Elijah glared. If looks could kill. He looked as though he wanted to school the man in manners, but Elena patted his arm.

“Come on, dads,” she said. “I think I hate this campus. Let’s just go, find something to eat.”

\--

The rest of the weekend was uneventful, and the next couple of weeks, as well. Alaric chopped his wood, and kept the fire burning against the ice cold weather. Helped Elena fill out college application forms knowing full well that getting her to interviews would be damn near impossible and getting her to an actual school would be even worse. Christmas passed. The snow began to melt, and the days got longer.

The beep of the security screen roused Alaric from his place on the couch. Elijah. It had been weeks. Alaric smiled, and glanced at the chess set on the shelf as he pulled the door open.

“Come in,” he said simply. “Drink?”

Elijah nodded. “Where is she?”

“A friend’s house. Spending the night. Don’t worry, one of your witchy friends is there as well.” But Elijah looked puzzled. “She’s fine. No sign of trouble. I can call her, if you want her to come…”

Elijah raised his hand, and slipped his jacket off his shoulders, appraising the room, as he always did. By the time he had set up the board, Alaric had poured drinks. He set them down and took his place.

“Are you making progress?”

Elijah shrugged. Non-committal. “Of a sort. Young Bonnie is proving most resourceful.” He watched as Alaric unexpectedly took his bishop, but didn’t look fazed.  “The sort of magic used to lay my father to rest for a time, that is the aim. Long enough for Elena to live and die without biological children of her own. That is all that is needed. He’ll be angry, but there will be no one left to take it out on, except me.”

Alaric nodded, and made his first move. It occurred to him that this was what made Elijah such a good chess player. He understood the value of sacrifice.

They played as silently as they ever played. The odd murmured compliment or groan of disappointment. Alaric shook his head as he lost the first game, and Elijah sat back in his armchair as Alaric reset the board.

Alaric was beginning to think he could get used to the taste of cognac. It was… complicated, like his dignified friend. Friends with vampires; who would have thought it? Strange enough that he had befriended the man who had taken his wife from him, and turned her into one of his own. But Elijah was so entirely different.

Another game, the same rhythm.

Alaric didn’t realize he was going to win until Elijah let out a startled sort of ‘oh’ sound. Alaric had to look at the board over and over to convince himself it was true. But it was true. He sat back, examining the final move he would need to make. It almost seemed too boastful, taking it. He met Elijah’s eyes, and chuckled, and took that last move.

“I feel like I should take a photograph,” he said. “This will probably never happen again.”

Elijah wore an amused smile. Yes, Alaric thought, he liked to be surprised.

“Most impressive,” Elijah said.

Alaric stared at the board for a good long time, wondering if there would be another game tonight. When he looked up, Elijah’s smile was gone, replaced with an odd look of yearning. “Elijah?” he asked, and Elijah shook his head.

“I should go,” he said. “Very well played. Very well played indeed. I haven’t been beaten in chess since… well, I believe it was the seventeenth century.” He pressed his hands to the armrests, readying himself to stand. It seemed a slow process.

“Well,” Alaric answered, and he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t disappointed. “I’d say I’m sorry I broke your winning streak, but I’ve never been beaten so many times in a row before, so I’m really not.” He smiled, climbing to his feet as Elijah did the same. So frustrating. “You, um. Was there a reason you came tonight? Or…”

Elijah shrugged lightly. “No. No particular reason. I did enjoy that, though. Thank you.” Alaric fought the urge to actually groan. Perhaps it had taken him a while to get there, but that look, that look of yearning, was unmistakable.

If Elena was right about this being a very odd courtship, surely this symbolic shift should have provoked a shift of another kind? And when the hell had this become something Alaric wanted, and wanted so badly?

He followed Elijah to the door, standing with his arms crossed over his chest, one knee jutting out a touch. “You know,” he said. “You don’t have to.”

“Hmm?” Elijah raised an eyebrow, unrolling his sleeve, rebuttoning the cuff.

“You don’t have to go.”

Again that charge in the air. That crackle. Elijah said nothing, and paused, and met Alaric’s eyes.

“I don’t understand you,” Alaric said.

Elijah looked hurt, for a second, but it vanished again. “Few do.”

“We’ve been dancing around this for months.”

Elijah collected his jacket. “Have we,” he said, slipping it on. “What did you think would happen, Alaric? Did you think that if you beat me at a board game, I would bed you?”

Alaric didn’t think he’d felt so young, or so foolish, in his entire life. “Ouch,” he said. “You know what – forget I said anything. Thanks for the game.”

Elijah hesitated.

It was interesting to see. Elijah never hesitated. He simply _was_ , he just _did_. To see a moment where his reasoning skipped a beat or two was like seeing a rainbow with the colors turned the wrong way.

And then, suddenly, so suddenly that Alaric was actually afraid for a moment, he was pinned up against the sideboard, right there by the front door. Instinct had his hand twitch for a weapon, but only for a moment. Elijah’s body against Alaric’s was heavy, as if his great age had settled in his bones. He pressed his nose to Alaric’s throat, inhaled his scent. Alaric had the overwhelming urge to tell him to bite, though he sincerely doubted Elijah would.

Elijah’s mouth, the fine late night stubble, rubbed over Alaric’s jaw, his cheek. Alaric was aware he was breathing hard. Cock twitching preemptively in his pants. When Elijah’s lips finally found Alaric’s, Alaric’s relief was palpable. There was nothing hesitant about the kiss, not once it had begun. Determined and exploratory. Alaric let his hand find the back of Elijah’s neck as he struggled to get some degree of control, but it was hopeless; Elijah had all the control here and his hands on Alaric’s hips were the only thing keeping him upright.

Kissing someone new for the first time was always intriguing; seeing how long it would take to find a rhythm, who would take the first step to taking it elsewhere. Elijah’s tongue was thick and alien in Alaric’s mouth and Alaric found some distant part of his brain trying to remember the last time he’d kissed anyone, let alone another man. It seemed, though, that their rhythm was found quickly enough; rather, Elijah’s rhythm was one Alaric adopted eagerly, when suddenly it ended.

“I should go,” Elijah said, and he was suddenly a foot away.

Alaric’s head was spinning. “Go?”

“Yes.” He slipped his jacket over his shoulders, adjusting his shirt. “Goodbye, Alaric,” he said, and he was out the door before Alaric could be sure it was really going to happen.

\--

Alaric had an alarming tendency towards despondency, and he woke the next day with no desire to get out of bed. Elena got home about lunchtime and knocked on his door until he threw the alarm clock at it.

“You’ve got ten minutes,” she called, “and then I’m coming in there.”

Over a late lunch of bacon and eggs, she chattered quietly about her evening. The witch Elijah had placed in her class was becoming a good friend. She’d been called for an interview at NYU. Jeremy was marrying a werewolf in a closed ceremony on South Beach. Mystic Falls had been hit by a meteor.

“What?”

“I wasn’t sure you were listening. You’re a million miles away, and are you going to tell me what happened with Elijah last night?”

“You knew he was coming?”

“Duh.” She took another mouthful. “That’s how come the sleepover. So what happened?”

It was sad. He had no one else in the world to talk to about this. “I beat him at chess,” he allowed. Elena’s eyes went very wide.

“You did?”

“Please don’t be so shocked. I’m actually really good. I’ll teach you.”

“No offense, but other than it being sort of hot when you play Elijah it looks like the most boring thing a person can actually… I mean, yes, that would be… nice,” she said, flushing. “But what happened?”

Alaric thought.

And no.

“Nothing. I beat him, and he left. Now tell me about NYU.”

He ignored Elena’s confused expression, the open doubt, and listened as she explained what had to happen next.

\--

Alaric stared at the phone sitting by his elbow on and off all day, on Monday. Finally, he plucked up all his courage, and called. Part of him wondered if Elijah might ignore the call, but it was a patently ridiculous concern; Elijah had bigger things to worry about than a washed-up history teacher slash semi-retired vampire hunter with a crush.

“Alaric. I trust all is well?”

“Mostly.” Alaric sighed. “She has an interview at NYU. I know what you’re going to say…”

“Do you?”

Alaric felt a shiver of irritation. “Look, forget the other night, okay? Nothing’s changed. We have a job to do. Just happens that they’re complicated in different ways. I have a smart, motivated eighteen year old girl to care for, who wants to go to college next year. And frankly I’d rather pull her out at the last second and install her in your dungeon than have her three weeks late to accept a place because your part of the job isn’t done yet. Meantime -”

Alaric groaned.

“Are you gonna help or not? I’m taking her to this interview.”

Elijah was silent for several moments. Alaric imagined him gazing out a window, somewhere, still as stoned, because Elijah didn’t bother to breathe, when he wasn’t speaking, unless it as for show. “I – yes.”

Alaric was ready with a longer argument and probably a few sharpened barbs, but he was rendered silent.

“Okay,” he said. “Got a pen?”

“I have no need. As they say – shoot.”

Alaric smiled despite himself, as he rattled off the details, and Elijah said he’d call back once arrangements were made, and right on cue, the security system told him Elena was coming up the driveway.

His expression gave something away, because she shot him an almost pitiful glance.

“NYU’s a go,” he said. “Elijah’s playing travel agent again.”

She bit her lip and dropped her rucksack as she slid into the chair. “Maybe you could skip it.”

Alaric laughed. “Not gonna happen, ’Lena. Now help me with dinner.”

\--

“No flight should take eight hours,” Elena said, as they dragged themselves out of the departures lounge. Alaric couldn’t have actually felt more exposed, in a city so large. No idea which eyes might be hostile. He nodded in the direction of a tall guy who brought to mind Stefan, holding up a sign that read ‘Mikaelson’.

“I think that’s our date,” he said, carrying his own bag, and Elena’s as well. He couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment. Ridiculous to think Elijah might have met them – honestly, he didn’t even think they’d see him, this time, he hadn’t even brought the chess board, though that had been a near thing. He’d been staring at the thing until the moment Elena came out of her room.

And the hotel, and they were both too tired to head out to dinner so they ordered room service, and spread out on the couch in Alaric’s room, and watched a couple of movies until it was time to sleep. Elena laid her head against Alaric’s shoulder and it made him ache a little less.

“All this, for me to get fifteen minutes in front of some guys who can determine the rest of my life,” she said, as the credits to some romantic comedy Alaric had already forgotten began to roll.

He felt his heart turn over in his chest. “Elena… if you end up having to wait a year, or two…”

“I know,” she said, cutting him off. “I get it. It’s not just me, it’s everyone.” He hated the resolution in her voice. “Klaus can’t be allowed to build an army.”

“You matter more to me than the rest do. If he finds you, he’ll lock you up for the rest of your life and keep you healthy enough to be a constant supply of blood.”

“What happened between you and Elijah?”

Alaric cringed. “It doesn’t even matter. Go, get some sleep. We’ll get through tomorrow, go get dinner, see a show, and then it’s back home to maintain that four point oh until the end of the year.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she went, and Alaric sat for another hour on the couch, wishing he had something to drink.

\--

Alaric sat on a bench outside the administration building for almost two hours, heart in his throat, unsure whether he was desperate for Elena to get in, or hoping she wouldn’t. He tried to recall the names of the dozen or more colleges Elijah had suggested. Tiny places no one would ever find her in. But it was a ridiculous hope. She deserved the best, and after some spectacularly bad results at the beginning of junior year she was doing amazingly well. If she wanted this, it was what she deserved.

Alaric rubbed his eyes, and tried to focus on the book he was reading, the passage he’d read a dozen times now. When he glanced up, he wasn’t sure whether or not to be surprised to see Elijah.

He went with ‘not’.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m starting to think I have a vague idea what it’s like to be a parent.” He dog-eared the page and closed the book, leaning back as Elijah sat down. “Your entourage is getting more subtle. The driver looked like mafia, but other than that…”

Elijah shook his head. “They’re doing their best,” he promised, as he lounged in an almost un-Elijah-like way. “Your plans for this evening?”

“Up to Elena. Dinner and a show, I guess. Though we have an early flight, so I don’t know. Dinner, anyway,” he said, and didn’t look around. He hadn’t felt so much like a teenager since…

Well. Since he was a teenager.

“’m not sure how to look after her, here,” he admitted.

“I could easily arrange for her to be rejected.”

Alaric jerked around, but Elijah had a look of mild amusement on his face. “Not even funny, man,” he said.

“It was a little funny.” Elijah shrugged. “Perhaps I could join you.”

Alaric frowned. Elijah, babysitting…? “For dinner? Of course,” he said, automatically; what should always have been a trip that cost about a grand had become a junket, with who knew how many witches and vampires paid to protect Elena. “Well, you know the hotel. Meet us at eight? No,” he said. “Seven. Early night.”

Elijah nodded, and stayed still and silent for a while, and Alaric was struck with the overwhelming need to discuss, in horrific detail, what had transpired the last time they were together. And to say he hadn’t brought the chess set but he could pick one up in a supermarket, if he could only find one big enough. And that he had actually (who the fuck knew why) brought a bottle of cognac. And, and, and.

Elijah stood, sweeping his hands over his jacket. “I’m sure she’ll do well,” he said, suddenly acutely formal. “I doubt you packed a suit, but I’ll make arrangements to eat somewhere memorable.” And he was gone, before Alaric could react, and his frustration at every damn thing was too painful to think about; so suddenly, a very dull book became the most fascinating thing in the world.

\--

Elena’s graduation was one of the most painful nights of Alaric’s life, and he’d had his share of pain. She’d decided, against Alaric’s judgment, to forgo all the parties in favor of crying over the fact she wasn’t graduating with Bonnie, and Caroline, and he let her drink too much and he held her crying self in his arms until she shuddered and slept.

The summer was even worse.

\--

The apartment, in Midtown, was enormous, and full of altogether too much furniture. Richard Saltzman – ‘Rick, please’ – had a low-level faculty job at NYU and Eleanor Sommers was a freshman, and somehow, day by day, they made it work.

Elena slid onto the couch and into Alaric’s arms. “I miss Jeremy,” she said.

Alaric couldn’t argue. He missed everyone. Hell, he missed Damon. He ran his hand over Elena’s arm. “I know,” he said.

“I can’t do another thanksgiving without family. No offence,” she hastened to add.

“No, no.” He knew. And it had been fucking hard. Alaric was lonelier than he’d been the last year before Isobel had left. And it ached, to know everyone was angry at him; everyone who knew Elena was alive, anyway.

“I want to go to Colorado for thanksgiving,” she said, and Alaric hesitated, and nodded.

“I’ll call Elijah,” he said.

“Alaric…”

“No, it’s okay.” They were near psychic, these days. The barest twitch of tone. “Return airfare to Denver for one. I’ll be fine.”

Elena snuggled closer. “Maybe you could see your parents,” she suggested, but Alaric couldn’t and wouldn’t.

\--

Alaric explored twice as much of midtown as he’d ever seen and wasted an afternoon on the upper east side, smelling pumpkin pie and missing everyone he’d ever laid eyes on. He paced and bought seeds for pigeons and went home in the evening and read books he forgot instantly, and drank too much, and stared at his phone, wanting to call Elijah, wanting to call Damon, and knowing he couldn’t do either. He wanted to call Ben, his best friend from high school, best friend right up until he’d lost his mind because Isobel was dead and he couldn’t bear anything for another minute, but there was no way to just shoot the shit when his life was a shadow.

He wasn’t yet drunk enough, on thanksgiving evening, when there was a knock at the door.

He ignored it.

A second knock. No one was supposed to be able to get up to the penthouse. Alaric dragged himself to his feet and walked a thousand feet to the door, and it was Elijah, the peephole told him, and he stilled.

“I heard you walk across the room,” Elijah said. “And I hear your heart beat. Shall I go?”

Alaric opened the door.

“Come in,” he said, unsure whether the invitation was implied. Elijah nodded, and looked around, as Alaric closed the door. “Haven’t seen you in…”

Elijah nodded, and Alaric crossed his arms.

“Not feeling celebratory,” Elijah said, and turned to meet Alaric’s eyes.

“Elena’s in Denver,” he said, with a firm nod. “And you know that.”

Elijah indicated the bag in his hand. “I brought chess. And cognac.”

Alaric wanted to punch him. Instead, he ordered pizza, and set up the board. Elijah was about to beat him for the first time when the pizza arrived.

The pizza was finished by the time Elijah beat him the second time.

“I don’t think you’re trying,” Elijah said, and Alaric bristled.

“I’m out of practice,” he argued, as he set up the board again. “Elena hates chess.”

Elijah chuckled. “Indeed,” he said. “She’s well?”

“Like you don’t know. She’s datin’ a theatre major, entirely human, goes by the improbable name of Murphy. Her marks are good and she’d declarin’ journalism. She’s fine,” Alaric said, as he moved a rook, carelessly. “And she and Jer will have a good time.”

“Alaric,” Elijah said, over the chess board. Alaric moved his knight, carelessly, again carelessly. He couldn’t tell whether he was an idiot or just playing stupid. He shook his head.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” he said.

“There was a time when you enjoyed my company.” Trust Elijah not to mince his words.

Alaric felt like an idiot again. “You’re right,” he said, and renewed his focus. Several moves went by before Alaric realized Elijah was stalling.

“I know you have a thousand years on me,” he said, clasping his hands between his knees. “But this is ridiculous. You’re acting like the captain of the football team. We kissed, it’s done. Come by any time.” Still Elijah didn’t move a piece. Alaric scrutinized the board and was sure he was a long way from winning. “You know, your non-verbals aren’t that useful to a mere mortal.”

Elijah moved a pawn, rather uselessly. “Do you remember your childhood?” he asked.

Alaric dropped his head, for a moment, and made a fairly obvious movie to claim the pawn. “Yes,” he said, “and if this is anything so tacky as an age difference conversation, I’ll…”

Elijah cut him off. “No, wait,” he said. “Do you remember the wait between birthdays? Christmases?”

Alaric countered an unworthy move by Elijah’s rook. “Yeah, sure.” He reached for the bottle at the same moment Elijah did, and drew away when their fingers brushed. “Your move,” he said, uselessly. Heart beating in his throat.

“As you get older the years go by so fast,” he said, and Alaric began to understand.

“Your move,” he said, as he sipped the cognac. Very nice. He glanced at the label. Not his usual fare. Looked old and expensive.

Usually on a night like this one Alaric felt companionship, relief. He only felt tense. And more sober than he wanted to be, so okay, he was feeling insecure. Fine, whatever. “I think…”

“Stop,” Elijah said, and they’d never not finished a game of chess before but Alaric was suddenly quite sure they wouldn’t finish this one. Elijah clasped his hands loosely between his knees. “You need to understand, Alaric. Attachment is dangerous. I’m a thousand years old, with no intention of dying any time soon. I’ve lost more than you will ever have.” His voice was soft, as though he was speaking to a child, and Alaric felt a powerful flicker of annoyance.

“You can stop there,” he said. “Really.” Christ, he wasn’t talking about marrying the guy. He didn’t know what he was talking about. Just… a chance. To see what they could be. “Really. Just stop. You take everything too fucking seriously. You know, we could have some fun. Enjoy each other a little, without you over-thinking every fucking aspect of it. Might last a night or a month or a year. It doesn’t have to be some epic thing. And honestly… I think you could use some fun.”

“I wasn’t built that way.”

“Then I guess that’s all there is to say.” Alaric stood up, crossed his arms over his chest. “I think you should go.”

Elijah stood more slowly. “We could finish.”

“Not tonight. I meant what I said, come by any time. But I’m done talkin’ about this… and tonight, I’m just done.”

Elijah stayed silent, just standing, and Alaric met his eyes. He sincerely wished he wasn’t cursed to wear every emotion he had on his face, but he’d always been that way, and Elijah knew him well enough to read him. “Please,” he said.

Elijah crossed the room slowly, and collected his jacket. His face, which had borne signs of regret just moments ago, was a stone again, and he paused, nodding once, before he slipped silently into the elevator and disappeared for nearly a year.

\--

Elena had the good sense not to ask questions. After the first three months, Alaric put the chess set away in the back of a closet, and stopped offering to teach Elena to play. As they did groceries, she quietly nudged him to maybe consider dating – wasn’t her European history professor kind of hot? Or he could try Craigslist, or he could…

“Please, just don’t,” he said, every time, for months. “We’ve got enough to be getting’ by with, Elena.” She only ever smiled sadly at him.

September. New York in the Fall. Alaric liked it; the air beginning to get crisp, the leaves changing color, all of it. He went out walking as the light began to disappear. Stopped to buy himself a bottle of good bourbon. Made small talk with the shopkeeper and was debating stopping for a fairly anti-social social beer in one of the bars off Broadway when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Elena.

 _Come home_ , said her text. _Don’t panic, it’s good news, but come home_.

Alaric made a quick calculation and decided that at this time of the evening, in light traffic, a cab would actually be faster. Okay, good news, good news but his heart was still in his throat. He grossly overpaid his fare, nodded to the doorman and headed straight for the express elevator.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t to see Elijah and Elena sipping champagne at the kitchen bench. He smiled, perhaps still a little suspicious, and nodded cautiously at Elijah. Almost a year, with only the tersest of conversations to catch up on his news, and theirs, and Alaric wondered if he looked at all different; if an extra line around his eyes, or an extra few gray hairs, would remind Elijah that he was aging, while Elijah remained precisely himself.

Elena held out a glass of champagne, and Alaric stared dumbly at it. “Does this mean…”

Elena nodded. “He’s… immobilized. And hidden.”

Alaric let out a breath he’d been holding for two years, and almost staggered against the bench. He accepted the glass, and drained it dry, holding it out for a refill. “I don’t believe it,” he said. “And Bonnie’s okay?”

“She needs a lot of rest. She’s exhausted. Quite drained,” and at this Elijah held a hand out to Elena. “She’s getting the best care. No reason to think her magic won’t come back. She needs… sleep, and herbs, and time. But since this is effectively over…”

“I can go home,” Elena said. “I want to see everyone. When can we go?”

Alaric head swam. “Uh. I guess we’ll leave tomorrow morning,” he said. “I can only stay the weekend, but…” The thought of seeing everyone, seeing Damon… assuming Damon would forgive him for keeping Elena safe, anyway. It was dizzying. “Tomorrow morning. Is that okay…? I mean I feel like we should just go, but it’s too late to get a flight… I’ll have to cancel my classes.”

Elena nodded. “I know. I feel like just getting in a car but that’s crazy. I’ll go mad in the meantime, but… Elijah, I’m sorry, this is going to sound terrible, when you’ve done so much, and come so far to tell us. But I have a study group starting in… ten minutes ago.”

She bit her lip.

“Your future matters no less now than it did this morning, or a year ago. Go,” he said. “I’ll arrange for us all to fly out first thing in the morning. Without an escort, this time.”

Elena wrapped her arms around Elijah’s neck. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for… all of this.” She withdrew her arms, and reached up to kiss Alaric’s cheek. “Both of you. Everything will change, now. Won’t it?”

She grinned broadly, and grabbed up her backpack, already scrolling through contacts on her phone.

And Alaric and Elijah were left alone.

“Well,” Alaric said. “It’ll take me a couple of weeks to find somewhere else to live. I’m bettin’ Elena will want to move onto campus housing; save her some time, and since she won’t need protecting…”

“Alaric.”

“I think I’ll stay in New York, though. Place grows on you.”

“Please. There’s no rush. Stay as long as you wish.” Elijah stuffed his hands into his pocket, almost spoiling the line of his pants, but not quite.

“I appreciate it.” He’d move as quickly as he could, though. His task was done, and he had no intention of being in Elijah’s debt longer than necessary.

There was a long, awkward moment, and Alaric drained his glass. “Look, you’re here. It’s been a long time. Do you feel like a game?”

Elijah nodded slowly, and indicated a bottle of cognac on the sideboard. “I didn’t want to presume. But yes, very much.” He slipped his jacket from his shoulders, and Alaric went looking for the chess set. They found a space, huddled over a coffee table, and it was so familiar, but so alien, all wrapped up the overwhelming relief of the moment, that Alaric found himself smiling.

“I missed this,” Elijah said quietly, just as Alaric was about to voice the same sentiment.

“Me too,” he said, as he took Elijah’s bishop. “Elena won’t play.”

“Not what I meant. I enjoyed your company immensely, Alaric.” He sounded like he was choking on the words, but he played an excellent move regardless. Alaric was out of practice. “I’ve missed this. Not just the chess.”

Alaric said nothing, for a long while. “I told you to come any time. Believe it or not, you weren’t the first person to turn me down, Elijah. I was perfectly fine to be a grownup about it.” He grinned, and met Elijah’s eyes briefly, before reaching for his glass. “Anyway, bygones.”

Elijah didn’t make a move. Alaric glanced at him again.

“I think – I often think – I made a mistake, that night,” he said, as he finally moved his knight.

Alaric felt his skin go cold. He examined the board. What the hell was he supposed to say? “Don’t worry about it. We both probably said some stupid things.” He took another sip of the cognac, and moved his queen; too bold, probably, this early. He wouldn’t win either way.

“You’re not making this very easy,” Elijah said.

“I’m not sure what you want to hear, Elijah.” Alaric crossed his hands over his knees. “I mean, we’re done, now. Right? Elena’s safe, I move on with my life, you go on with yours. Nothing you said is any less true than it was.”

“Perhaps.” Elijah took a bishop, and Alaric winced.

He sipped, and thought, and finally chose a knight – but before his fingers reached it, Elijah’s cool hand was slipping into his own. It was a curious sight, Elijah’s rough, cool hand, impossibly elegant fingers which still somehow well-worn and hard-working, settling against Alaric’s; cataloguing calluses and scars and hangnails, until the dance was done, and Alaric’s hand closed as well.

“If you ask me to stay,” he said, words carefully chosen and calculated, “I will stay, Alaric.”

Alaric gripped a little tighter. “Then stay.”

There was a moment, where their eyes met; seemed a long-ish moment. Moves had been made and met, but who would take the next step? Alaric felt his breath quicken, and they both got to their feet, still slowly, still the hands clasped in the middle.

And then they collided. Elijah’s hands pulled Alaric’s face close, and the kiss was hurried and hungry. Alaric’s hands, which wanted to be everywhere, chose Elijah’s hips, and pulled him in. Elijah was just a little cool, but seemed to be warming, and Alaric was dizzy with the thought.

Elijah was occupied by the buttons of Alaric’s shirt, by his apparently urgent need to touch the flesh of Alaric’s stomach. It was a strange feeling, for Alaric, who was rather more used to taking the lead in such encounters; but it wasn’t unwelcome. It felt good, being guided by hands strong enough to crush him, hands that were right now gentle enough to raise goose-bumps to his skin, make him shiver. And yet. Rough enough, for all of that.

Whatever. Alaric wasn’t the Victorian type. He forced his hand between their bodies, unfastening Elijah’s pants (no belt, of course, on a suit made for him; the waistband of these pants wouldn’t dare fail to conform to the contours of this body), unzipping them, finding Elijah achingly hard in silk boxers. Elijah jerked roughly into Alaric’s hand, and Alaric let his head fall against Elijah’s shoulder. This was not the place. He withdrew his hand to a disgruntled moan, and Elijah seemed suddenly to remember where he was.

“Bedroom,” Alaric said firmly.

How they got there would remain a mystery. Alaric was shocked he could even walk. But it was worth the trip to watch Elijah strip down to bare skin. He remained strangely formal, carefully folding his pants even as his erection strained so hard it bounced against the hard plane of his stomach. They were quiet, like it was any other game of chess.

“It’s been a long time,” Elijah said, as he climbed over Alaric’s naked body on the bed, and pressed against him, cocks slotting up perfectly together as their hips began to move. Alaric put a hand over Elijah’s arm, the other settling low on his hip, as Elijah dragged his lips over Alaric’s jaw, and found his throat.

Elijah didn’t ask permission. Perhaps he knew he didn’t have to. Alaric’s only regret was that he couldn’t see his face. He could picture it clearly, the red-black eyes, the engorged capillaries, the fangs; but he wanted to see, as well. Why he wasn’t afraid, he didn’t know, only that he was high on a sea of hormones, and had an ache between his legs that only one thing would correct, and Elijah’s fangs sank into his skin like hot knives into butter. It shouldn’t have made him harder, shouldn’t have made him sling a leg over Elijah’s hip and pull their bodies closer. It did.

Elijah’s hand, insistent, found space enough to find the entrance to Alaric’s body, and begin to probe gently. And then less gently, one finger just to the first knuckle until Alaric bucked. “Lube,” he begged, reaching for the dresser drawer, hands fumbling until he found a slim tube.

There was the snap of the cap, and the sudden sensation of being flipped over, and then two well-slicked fingers breached Alaric in a way he hadn’t felt in… ten years? More? He didn’t care. He felt himself open under Elijah’s talented fingers and there was the strangest sensation of floating away, but with Elijah still there, so present.

“I hope to god you’re ready,” Elijah said, sounding completely wrecked; Alaric barely had a chance to nod before he felt the blunt, insistent head of Elijah’s cock breach his hole. Elijah wasn’t gentle, wasn’t cautious, right from the word go. He slid into Alaric like they were intended to fit that way, and perhaps they were.

It was disorienting; Alaric wasn’t generally one to let himself be controlled, it took so much trust. But here control was wrested from him and he ceded it willingly, eagerly, barely holding himself up on his elbows. The furious rhythm of Elijah’s thrusts seemed at odds with the gentle hand skating over his back, but when that hand suddenly found purchase against his shoulder, holding him down, Alaric groaned. He was so hard he ached. Desperate for release. When Elijah’s hand snaked around his hip, gripping him hard, jerking him roughly, it only took a couple of minutes before he felt the knot build low in his body, and he spilled over the bedspread, timed to Elijah’s final thrusts.

Elijah gave a moan, rolling hips a few moments longer, before slipping from Alaric’s body, lying beside him on the bed. Alaric dropped beside him. He’d ache for days, but he didn’t seem to care; he’d gladly walk crookedly for a month, if it meant the chance to explore this strange being fully. His fingers found the wound in his neck, still bleeding sluggishly.

Elijah said, very quietly, “fuck,” and Alaric had to agree.

\--

It doesn’t even matter, what happened in Mystic Falls. After a lot of yelling (mostly Damon) and a lot of apologizing (mostly Alaric) there were connections to be reforged, stories to be shared. Elijah kept out of it all for the most part, but returned to New York with Elena and Alaric on Sunday, to see what might happen next.

Elena changed her name back, and moved into on-campus housing a couple of weeks later. Elijah asked Alaric to keep his apartment, and reluctant, if relieved, Alaric did. And they went on from there.

There were two lists; a list of things they didn’t do, and a list of things they did.

Things they didn’t do included: living together, in the strictest sense, though Elijah tended to stay at the apartment when he was in town. Pressing expectations into each other’s palms, shared trips to buy groceries. Extolling great emotional truths. Saying ‘I love you’ out loud, though it was there in every thoughtful gesture, every kiss hurried or drawn out.

Instead, sex, plenty of it, when they were in the same city, which was rather a lot. Chess. Drinking. The occasional faculty event when Alaric thought Elijah might enjoy it. Adults enjoying adult company. Rainy weekends spent nude and worshipful, slotting together in every way two fine, strong bodies could manage it. Lazy breakfasts in sunny cafés, picking over the newspaper looking for things to share. A shared life, if an unusual one. Never longer than a month out of each other’s company and rarely that long.

Does it matter, how this story ends?

Perhaps they got four years; perhaps it was ten. Perhaps it got too hard, as the brush of silver in Alaric’s hair turned to a true grey. But maybe not. Perhaps the relationship changed, over time, to a deep friendship and a set of shared memories. Perhaps Elijah learned that attachment was not the enemy. Or perhaps the day he watched them bury Alaric he promised himself he’d never let it happen again, never let a human get close.

Perhaps one weekend Alaric asked to be turned, and Elijah agreed.

I don’t know.

I only know that for right now, when you pass a certain bar in Midtown, the one with the better selection of cognacs, you might see a man in a very nice suit playing chess against a scruffy looking guy in a faded leather jacket, arguing quietly over the scruffy guy’s inability to make a sacrifice when the game calls for it. The scruffy guy will roll his eyes.

They won’t look like they’re together, at first glance, but if you watch a while, you’ll see it in their eyes; affection, a deep mutual respect, and undeniably, attachment.


End file.
